


To Kill a Witch

by owlish_peacock



Category: Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-17
Updated: 2018-01-17
Packaged: 2019-03-05 21:31:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13396626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlish_peacock/pseuds/owlish_peacock
Summary: Jamie doesn’t know much about women. Even less about the strange Miss Beauchamp. Outlander AU. One-shot.





	To Kill a Witch

At ten and seven years of age, Jamie didn’t know much about women. But, he did know that there was something odd about Claire Beauchamp.

Not in an obvious way. She was as lovely as any woman before her, perhaps lovelier. She never revealing dresses. Never said anything to cause a stir. She didn’t say much at all.

No, her strangeness felt like something more sinister hiding deep within her.

The air around her seemed to pulsate, a shimmering heartbeat that drummed out a warning: Danger. Do not come closer.

And Jamie never did, despite the sweet pull that told him otherwise. The louder voice that spoke: Come to me.

There were rumors about her, of course. Whispers seemed to follow strange women. Some said she was a witch, others said she was the Devil’s wife. Most didn’t care what she was, as long as she stayed the hell away from them.

Jamie disagreed with them. Witch, devil, fairy; whatever she was, he wanted her closer. Damn the consequences.

The rain drizzled over Cranesmuir. Jamie didn’t come into the small village very often, perhaps twice a month. It was a way for him to stretch his legs, get out of the castle.

There was a commotion today: a thief nailed to the pillory. Such things happened often in the town, and it always caused a ripple of excitement to run through the villagers without fail. Jamie was honestly bewildered that they weren’t tired of witnessing Father Bain dole out punishments. He didn’t much care for it. There was too much noise, and the spectators always smelled of fish.

“Excuse me, sir.” The small voice startled him, as much from surprise as from the timbre. English.

He looked downward toward the source of the voice, and saw Claire Beauchamp, standing in front of him, basket in hand.

“Oh, aye. Sorry. Do ye need help wi’ anything?”

“With my small basket? No, I’ll manage.” Her eyes were laughing at him. He’d never noticed their color before: a strange yellow, like a predator’s. He’d happily be her prey.

“Of course. Weel, I’ll get out of yer way, then.” He stepped aside to let her through. She curtseyed, giving him an amused side-eyed glance in the process.

“Good day to you, Mr. Fraser.”

He wasn’t aware she knew his name. They had never spoken before…

The snow blocked travel for 3 weeks, causing Jamie to be confined within the castle walls. He left as soon as the snow dripped from the roof.

The air sliced through him, brisk and wet. But, he was content. The crispness if the air lightened him, making him feel weightless.

He kicked the horse, encouraging speed. Maybe he would get to see Miss Beauchamp today…

The town was more alive than Jamie had ever seen it. The people were bubbling with anticipation, the crowd at its largest.

“What’s going on?” He asked the man next to him.

“They’re finally going tae burn the witch,” he answered, humor lacing his tone.

“The witch?” Jamie was confused. He’d never heard of any witches in Cranesmuir. Only rumors about…

“Aye. That English bitch. Good riddance tae the hoor.”

But Jamie was no longer listening. His blood ran cold, freezing his heart. No, they couldn’t burn her. She was just a woman. She never caused any harm. Surely, it was a mistake.

But, there she was, tied with ropes, exiting the thieve’s hole. She looked less like a convicted with and more like an empress, dignified despite her grungy appearance.

She would not let them see her weak.

She stepped gingerly on the pyre, as if it weren’t her death sentence. She raised her chin at the villagers and stared, daring them.

“Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp, you have been convicted of practicing witchcraft. You will be set on fire and burned until you are dead.”

She did not acknowledge that round man speaking to her. Her eyes were focused.

On Jamie.

Do not fear for me. A voice spoke, soft and lilting. I will be all right.

Perhaps he should have been concerned about the voice echoing in his head, but he couldn’t find it within him. He had larger worries, like Claire’s fate.

He wanted to run to her. Untie her. Run away with her. Keep her safe.

But, it was impossible. She ended here, on this unforgiving hell on earth.

Do not watch. The voice spoke again. Leave now.

He had no room for argument. The last thing he wanted was to see this woman burn. He turned on his heel, and started back the way he came.

From behind him, the cheers grew louder. The spectacle had begun.

Above the villagers’ yells, a bird screeched a vengeful song.

Jamie’s return home to Lallybroch was a welcome one. He was ready to be rid of Cranesmuir and Leoch. The stench of hatred that clung to the village permeated his clothing. He could not live in such a way.

Brian Fraser’s warm embrace greeted him, his joy palpable.

“Welcome back, lad.” His father smiled at him, bright in a way Jamie hadn’t seen since his mother’s death. “There’s so much for ye to catch up on. We’ve a few new tenants. Alba birthed a wee filly. Braw lassies, both of them. But, let’s have supper first. We’ll have plenty o’ time to talk.”

Jamie resumed his duties as future laird. His father thought it best that he introduce himself to the new tenants. The last lived far on a hill, on the outskirts if their land.

Donas trotted upward, steadily getting tired of the day’s work. Jamie could see in the distance a raven-haired woman tending to her garden. She turned at the sound of Donas’ hooves. Jamie’s heart jumped in his throat

Claire.

She was unmistakable, with her wild hair and glowing eyes.

“Hello, Mr. Fraser.” She had the same amused look that she wore when they first spoke: eyes narrowed, a half grin playing on her lips.

“C-Claire?” She smiled wider, revealing both rows of teeth. “But, you… I saw. They said you were dead.”

“Oh, come now, Jamie. It would take more than fire to kill a witch.”


End file.
